


bet's off

by bonebo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Collars, Dirty Talk, Petplay, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a bet, and ended with Gabe on his knees on their bedroom floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bet's off

It had started with a bet.

To be more accurate, it had started with some beers—and then Gabe had pulled the tequila out of nowhere, and try as he might Jack can't even remember what had happened next. 

All he knows is that it had started with a bet, and ended with Gabe kneeling naked on their bedroom floor, scowling at Jack as if it's _his_ fault that he'd lost. Jack leans against the door with his arms crossed and a lazy grin on his face, content just for now to revel in how sullen Gabe looks—and how _cute_ , honestly, with the dog-ear headband nestled in his curly hair, a spot of black paint on the tip of his nose. He's almost a perfect picture, and Jack is happy to say that he's the one who gets to complete the image.

“C'mere, Gabi,” he coos, giving his knees a pat; Gabe hesitates, scowl darkening, and Jack just _knows_ that he's debating right now whether to keep up the scene or fuck the whole thing and walk away—but a bet's a bet, and Gabe's nothing if not a man of his word. He crawls forward on hands and knees, cheeks flushed and lips twisted unhappily, and Jack crouches down to meet him, reaching out to give his head a pat.

“Good boy,” he praises, grinning at the soft growl his words earn. Jack reaches back in his pocket and pulls out a thin leather collar, dangles it in front of Gabe's face to let him see the bone-shaped name tag hanging from it—Gabe's growl immediately changes to something choked, but then he's silent, eyes a little wider and filled with a kind of nervousness Jack dimly recognizes as they flit between the collar and Jack's face.

“What?” Jack suddenly finds his mouth is a little dry, and as he reaches out to buckle the collar around Gabe's throat he realizes why. That expression, that _face_ —he remembers it from years ago, the first time he'd held Gabe down and fucked into his throat without restraint. 

The expression that meant Gabe _liked_ something, and was afraid of it.

“Oh, don't tell me...” Jack clips a leash to the collar and gives it a tug, grinning as Gabe— _Gabi_ —arches into the pull, a soft whine spilling from plush lips. “Don't tell me you like this. On your hands and knees with a collar around your neck, being my loyal dog, obedient to my every wish...”

Jack trails off as he gives Gabe's body an appreciative glance—lingering over the roll of his muscular shoulders and the broad swell of his ass, the thick, uncut cock hanging between his legs—and feels a flush spread up his neck, across his cheeks as he realizes, _fuck,_ he just might like this too.

“...c'mon, Gabi,” Jack says, voice hoarse as he heads back toward the bed; and Gabi follows him obediently, staying close to his side so he occasionally brushes against one of Jack's legs, and the realization that he has _Gabriel fucking Reyes_ on a leash at his feet is exhilarating. Jack sits heavily and lets his legs fall open, and the way Gabi nudges at his thighs, nuzzles the space between where Jack's cock is already starting to tent the stretch of his pants, makes his hips jerk up hopefully. 

Gabi whines—mouths at Jack's fly, like he's starving for Jack's cock—and Jack fumbles over the zip, unbuttoning his pants and shucking them down enough to allow his cock and balls to hang free. “You want this, Gabi? Want my—“ His cheeks flush, and he chokes out, “You want my _bone_ , boy?”

Gabi looks up at him, lips parted and wet with spit, and fucking _barks._

__

Gabi's knees have to be sore, with the way he's been on them so long—ass up and head held down by Jack's hand in his curls, the tag on the collar jangling with every powerful thrust of Jack's hips, each tap of his cock against Gabi's prostate drawing a high-pitched noise from him. Jack delights in it, hazily, too focused on the hot, silken grip of Gabi's ass around him to really take much note of anything else; he smacks at Gabi's fat ass just to hear him howl, the noise going right to his throbbing dick.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” he moans, draping himself over Gabi's sweat-slick back, hips rolling into the meat of the other's thick thighs, balls heavy-wet slapping at Gabi's own. “Yes, take it, you bitch...fucking take it, bark if you like it, dirty dog-slut...”

And Gabi—bless his heart, Jack will have to give him a reward later—Gabi _yips_ and barks and woofs helplessly, cheek grinding into the floor with every hard thrust Jack gives him, his hips bucking back for more. Jack digs his free hand into the firm flesh of Gabi's hip, knows he's going to leave bruises there but doesn't care; _can't_ care, because in the next instant Gabi's bark breaks on a sob and he's clenching up, striping the floor below him with cum, and the tight pull of his hole is too much to resist. Jack follows him into orgasm, bending his head down to grab Gabi's ear in his teeth and growl his release, seated to the root in Gabi's ass and able to feel his full-bodied shiver.

It takes a while for Jack to come down from the high. Gabi's soft whimpering is enough to coax him into releasing his ear, and he straightens up slowly, rolling his hips against Gabi's ass a few times to stir him up; Gabi whines and squirms, oversensitive and still vulnerable from subspace, and Jack smiles fondly as he coaxes his softening length out.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, tugging Gabi into his lap—he pulls off the headband and sets it aside, then uses his thumb to remove the smear of paint marring bronzed skin. When his hands go for the collar, however, Gabe stops him, glancing up at Jack with a conflicted look in his eyes.

“...I...wait...”

He sounds uncertain and hesitant, unsure of his own wants; Jack pauses, then smiles slightly, moving his hand away from the collar and up, petting over dark and sweaty curls. Gabe is tense for a moment, wary under the affection—certain he's going to get some kind of quip, a mocking comment—but when all Jack does is keep petting him in long, soothing strokes, he relaxes, tension bleeding from him as he settles himself down in Jack's lap.

The room is quiet for a long while, until Gabe finally speaks.

“Next time, it's _your_ turn.”


End file.
